NB: This is a story is purely fictional and a result of my active imaginations. It is unrelated to any person dead or alive; any such resemblance is purely coincidental.

Doctor Cindy Nelson is a successful pediatrician blessed with a loving husband and two beautiful daughters. To the outside world, she appears to have it all. Her colleagues and loved ones greatly admire how she perfectly combines her spiritual, family and work life. Unfortunately, within her soul is a cancer that has been eating at her for several years. An inward pain carefully concealed by her outward appearance. At a younger age, she had dumped her baby in the school bin and had no idea whether he lived or died.Remembering the act robs her of the joy she has found in her family. It is only when she lays the past to rest that she can truly be happy. As a yearly ritual, she cries out to God from the depths of her soul on her son’s birthday. She knows someway somehow, He alone could give her the peace of mind she desperately needs to move on in the future.

It is me again God,

I am here because of the same issue; it’s about my baby or should I say my son? He is no longer a baby at 14. Today is his birthday. It’s been 14 long years without him. I wonder if he is okay. Please give me a sign he is alive and well. The other day when I went to the market, my heart beat as I saw that handsome young boy and wondered if he was the one. My disappointment knew no bounds when he turned around only for me to discover it was a figment of my imagination. How many times have I made a fool of myself like this? How long will this torture last? Oh, had I known is always alas. I know this uncertainty will one day end.

God, I know this is a sin I have confessed, time without number. However, can I ever forget what I did? Just when I feel it is all in the past, the memory comes back as strongly as if it were yesterday. These days, I remember him so much, especially since the doctor confirmed I might no longer have children after my surgery. Thank you for giving me two beautiful girls. Oh, how their father wishes for a son and my girls wish they had a brother. Maybe one day, I will have the courage to tell them the truth. Somewhere out there is the brother they long for.

Protect him oh God, remember him for I don’t know whether he is alive or died. Whether he has three square meals each day as I enjoy with my family, is unknown to me. Whether he is educated or not and if he knows what I did to him are questions I yearn answers to. Grief, torture, pain, torment all in one are what I feel with this uncertainty I put myself through. Perhaps abortion would have been a safer alternative, for then I would have known he was in your bosom. That he was glowing with purity and free of this cruel world.

However, abortion has its own repercussion I didn’t have the strength to endure. At least I console myself I did not snap the life out of him. If I had abstained from sex as preached time without number, I would not be carrying this cross today. Though I was in church, I had not accepted you yet as my lord and personal savior. I was just going through the motions. What was I going to do with a baby at the age of 18 when I had just entered the university? How was I to face the church in which my parents were the founders?

My dad would have surely thrown me unto the street as I had seen him do to my elder sister, Ingrid. Who would have helped me out? My son, my baby! Even when I decided to risk it all, the rejection from Dominic my then boyfriend was too much for me to handle. Who is responsible? Those words still echo in my ears with anguish. I wonder if Dominic knows what plaques my mind so many years down the line. He never once looked back when he left my room, after claiming he knew nothing about my pregnancy. If he has escaped this torment, then this world is unfair to women indeed. I cannot put my hand on what is worse, to throw away my baby or to picture every boy of his age as my son. The guilt of dumping my baby boy into the university trashcan still weighs me down after all these years.

God, please forgive me! May the filth I dumped him into no more soil his innocent body. His new body given from above, which I condemned to the worst faith, was undeserving of any living being. You alone were in my room the day I single-handedly delivered my boy into a world he chose not to be. Oh, the pain and danger I put myself through! Thank you for seeing me through. It is a miracle no one suspected I was pregnant. What would I have done? Maybe I should have spoken up and damned the consequences, because silence is not always golden. My stomach had been so small and I am grateful I had a room to myself.

Those biology books demonstrating how to self-deliver your own baby seemed impossible but came in handy. If I hadn’t rushed myself to the hospital out of campus after getting rid of him, I would surely have been dead. Where did I find such strength? It was a miracle not to bleed to death. Now I know you were there watching over me from above. Your angels gathered before my invisible eyes as they helped bring my boy into this world.

Even though I had lied to the midwife that I had a miscarriage, the suspicious look in her experienced eyes told me she knew. I keep asking myself why she said nothing as she cleaned me up and attended to me. Her eyes were kind and I felt it was you looking at me. If I did not run away, she would have turned me in. The memory is so vivid and still causes my heart to pound. I wonder what his name is. I only remember him as misery, for that is all I could think of when I thought of him at the time. Now I think of him with different emotions from joy to sadness, anger and bitterness. My Boy! Today he is 14 and wherever he is, I hope you have kept him safe and sheltered as you have done for me. May I starve if he is hungry if that will feed him somehow. Let me feel his pain when he is sad. When the story comes out one day, please defend me oh lord. I will rather not see him again than see hatred in his eyes.

If I had not dumped him in a dustbin, the story may not have been too bad. Thank you for sending the university nurse to his aid that dawn and saving his life. I do not know what transpired after or where he is now. However, I know we shall meet again, in this world or the next. Oh, Lord let it be in this world. It is a mystery how I kept this secret to myself all these years. The heart of man is desperately wicked indeed. I know you have given me a good man but I can never bring myself to tell him. I am afraid he will see me differently and may not be able to forgive me. Only you have the power to forgive. Wrecking my marriage with this secret will not only affect me but my two innocent children. No! I cannot tell him. This secret is for your ears only because you already observed it with your eyes.

Take away the sorrow from my heart and let me glow in the feel of another year added to his life, if he is alive. To think he may be dead is the greatest pain I can imagine and even my labor pains cannot compare. God, let him be alive and bring happiness to another, as you wanted him to bring to me. I know you gave me the gift of a bold birthmark on his cheeks identical to mine that no one can miss. Yes! One day soon, if it is your will, we shall reunite. That uncommon identity mark will be my proof of his identity. Oh how I love you, my son. God please let him know this, if there is a way you can.

I can never forget the way his beautiful big eyes looked at me as if to say, why mummy? Don’t you love me? I am cold; please take me out of here! I am still surprised he did not cry until I walked way. I was so scared of someone seeing me. Could he have been protecting me even then? His little hand had clutched to my finger with his faint strength as if to say, please mummy, don’t go! Please, we will make it. Oh God, do you remember how I wept in shame and pain as my breasts dripped their own share of tears from the breast milk you had graciously provided for him? Only once did I allow him to suckle my breast to satisfaction. I wonder whether another wet mother filled my place.

The shame and guilt I felt the next day was nothing compared to what I had done. You know how the news spread like wildfire. The wicked curses and insults hurled at the culprit cut deeper into my emotional wounds. I thank you for your grace and mercy. As I joined the rumors for fear of being exposed, I was unaware I pointed an invisible finger at myself. My baby, my boy where are you now? God please tell him I love him now, I was just but a girl who stupidly thought I was a woman. Several years down the line, I now realize one can never be too grown or too wise.

If there is something I am confident about, it is your love for children. Jesus once said; let the children come unto me for theirs is the kingdom of God. I may be his mother, but I am not his God. I may Love him but not as much as you do. You alone demonstrated great love when you sent your only begotten son to die so I might live. Thus, I have the assurance of his safety in you for my arms are too short to reach out to him wherever he is. Nonetheless, your arms surround him daily. Bless my boy as you have blessed me, despite my wickedness. Assure me it is well with Him and my mind will be at peace, leaving him in your care.

If any good came out of this, it was that I accepted you into my heart out of my loneliness and grief. My God, my best friend and my confidant; thank you for saving me. No matter how he turns out, let him accept you as I have. I will never cease praying for his salvation as I do for my girls. Thank you that the plans you had for him while still in my womb were not as wicked as I had for him. Any time I felt him kick against the walls of my womb, my thoughts were murderous. But his safety was your concern. For your word says the plans you have for him are prosperous and not harmful. No wonder I was unable to harm him. It was not in my power to do so. Make him the best in everything he does and may my prayers of intercession answer his every need.

One day, I will speak to my husband and my girls. I know I have been telling you this every year but it is easy to say than to do. The time is not right and my courage fails me. If I should ever meet him alive, I will be sure to spill the beans to the world, no matter the consequences. But if I do not meet him according to your will, I will wait for the day I lay on my dying bed. This way, I can escape the look of shock and disdain from my loving husband and two adorable girls who believe mummy can do no wrong.

Then, you will receive me in your arms for you alone have the power to forgive. If you have forgiven me, who am I not to forgive myself? I can go on with life confidently though I will not cease praying for him. Thank you so much for his life whether here or in your bosom. Until 11 March, when I come to thank you for my son’s life again, it is bye for now on this topic. Please do let him know someone loves him and that someone is me, His mother. Amen.

RELATED BIBLE VERSE

Psalm 6

1 LORD, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath. 2 Have mercy on me, LORD, for I am faint; heal me, LORD, for my bones are in agony. 3 My soul is in deep anguish. How long, LORD, how long? 4 Turn, LORD, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love. 5 Among the dead no one proclaims your name. Who praises you from the grave? 6 I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. 7 My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes. 8 Away from me, all you who do evil, for the LORD has heard my weeping.
9 The LORD has heard my cry for mercy; the LORD accepts my prayer. 10 All my enemies will be overwhelmed with shame and anguish; they will turn back and suddenly be put to shame.

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

Do you think like the psalmist, Dr. Cindy Nelson deserves God’s compassion after what she did?

How does God’s restoration or forgiveness cure those who are sick at heart?

Why is it so difficult for Dr. Nelson to come out with the truth, will you have done otherwise?

Would you have forgiven yourself if you were in her shoes?

If God forgives us, should we resist forgiving our own sins no matter how terrible?

Like her boyfriend and her father, how do we sometimes contribute to the poor decisions others make?

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NB: This is a story about a married woman who prays to God about the sin of adultery.It is purely fictional and a result of my active imaginations. It is unrelated to any person dead or alive; any such resemblance is purely coincidental.